Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eddie was a coward.

He’d always known this.

His mother’s voice would appear in his head, whispering No, Eddie-bear, you can’t do that, you’re too delicate, you’re too sensitive, you’re too--

It felt like boiling poison (poison, Eddie!) making its way through his brain. And some aching pit in Eddie’s stomach knew, he knew she was right.

She proved it to him five years after she died.

Through it all, going back to Derry, seeing his old friends (Richie), oh Dear God how did he forget them all, the Clown, the leper, the sewer, the ritual, seeing Richie stand in front of the spider like some limp puppet. Somehow hearing Richie’s voice plead to him from some unknown blackness, just an echo, a cry for help. And some stupid, stupid part of him listened, and went to save Richie.

Why? It was dangerous, the risks, it would’ve been better to just walk away at that Chinese dinner.

Too sensitive, Eddie, you can’t handle it, you’re lungs, you’re too weak

But he survived, didn’t he? Right, he sprayed his stupid inhaler down the fucker’s throat, knowing that it will burn It’s throat like it did his, when he was small.

But it’s water, Eddie, just water and camphor, you know this why did you think it was medicine, why did you think that would’ve worked, saving Richie with nothing but a plastic tube.

He managed to pull his arm away, but It’s teeth raked large cuts into his skin, blood spilling on the cavern floor. In his arms though, he was holding onto Richie. Richie was holding onto Bill.

Bill, his first friend and fearless leader, with grey-blue eyes that held so much wisdom, power, and sadness, too much for an 11 year old boy to have, and still too much for a 38 year old man.

Eddie remembers looking at Bill, then down to his torn-up arm. Richie was the first to come to Eddie, tearing off his jacket and wrapping it around the cuts. Richie gave him a crooked smile, his Trashmouth smile. The same one he had when they were kids, with the buckteeth sticking out, lower lip curled slightly in, freckles rising up to his bright blue eyes. The kind of smile that asked if he had any good chucks lately, Eds? The kind of smile that would lighten his chest when the older kids at school called him names.

(Sissy queer boy)

Eddie knows as he lay there cradling his arm that Richie and Ben left to finish It, Bill left to find Audra, and Bev let Eddie put his head on her shoulder.

Look what bravery did to you, Eddie-bear. No good business, bravery. Just recklessness.

Bev stroked Eddie’s hair, and asked him if he was okay. Her voice was quivering.

Look what bravery did to your friends, Eddie-bear.

You sent my friends away, ma.

Rotten little friends. Dirty boys.

Dirty Eddie.

Dirty.

His arm was throbbing. Blackness faded in and out of Eddie’s eyesight as he tried to focus on Beverly’s voice. He heard Richie’s voice again. Pain shot through Eddie’s arm, and he realized he was being picked up.

Richie was carrying him. He had thrown Eddie over his back, and had his arms wrapped around the backs of Eddie’s knees. Vaguely, Eddie knew Richie was talking, talking to him, saying things like, Which way, Eds, huh? and Okay, okay, stay with me here.

More than anything, Eddie wanted to respond. I’m right here, Rich, I can hear you, you guys just have to keep going down this way, we’re right under Center street, please, please, listen to me, Richie, Richie--

But all that came out his mouth was some groaning noise. His head was light. How much blood had he lost?

It was raining when they climbed out of the pumping station. Fat drops fell on Eddie’s cheeks, washing the dirt from his skin. Eddie turned his head down into Richie’s neck, letting the top of his head get soaked. Water dripped down the ends of Eddie’s eyelashes, off of his nose.

It was clean rain. Pouring into the storm drains, running through the soil around the trees.

Richie’s breath was warm. His cheeks were red. Eddie could feel Richie’s pulse through his neck.

Richie was alive, and so was he.

Bev left with Ben. Mike was out of the hospital, and helped Bill care for Audra. Bill was going to stay here in Derry for a while, “Just until Audra is doing better,” he would tell Mike as they were leaving the hospital.

Eddie was at the Derry Townhouse with white bandages wrapped around his arm. He sat in the lobby with his suitcase at his feet.

Part of his mind begged him not to leave. Just a while longer. Let’s stay. Let’s walk down to the baseball field one last time, go down to the old mechanic’s shop, maybe the weeds will still be there, and the rust on the garage door. Let’s walk down to the Kenduskeag. Are there still tigers in those woods like Big Bill told him on their safari adventure? Will Richie bring his radio and hang it from a branch? The leaves will rustle and Richie’s hair will go into his eyes, and he’ll brush it back--

Eddie’s throat constricted. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Stupid thoughts.

Eddie touched his wire glasses and pushed them up his nose, trying desperately not to think of the way Richie did that.

Speak of the devil, Richie walked into the lobby with his hands in his pockets, casually approaching Eddie.

“How’s your arm?”

“It hurts, but it’s moveable.”

Richie hummed. He scratched his nose, and opened his mouth before closing it.

“What?” Eddie said.

“Nothing, nothing.” Richie looked down at the floor. “Well, I was just thinking, if you-- if you think you can’t--” he trailed off and bit his lip.

“Silence from the motormouth, truly a once-in-a-lifetime event.” Eddie smirked. Richie huffed a small laugh.

“Ah say, ah say, naw sir, jus’ havin some good ole chucks afore we leave this here one-horse town, takin’ off ta my darlin’, shakin’ the dust off ma boots--”

“Beep beep,” Eddie smiled and looked down to the patterned carpet.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie laughed a little bit. “But, hey Eddie, I mean, if you ever want to, you know, not be alone, I’m just a phone call away.” He said this last part rushed, as if just in an afterthought.

“I won’t be alone. I’m married, remember?”

Richie’s eyes drifted to the side. “Yeah, yeah I remember.” He sighed. “Just… just don’t lose touch, okay?

Eddie braced himself for the tirade of questions, crying, and touching Myra would do as soon as he opened the door to his home.

And cry she did.

She was so worried, why would you leave me for so long, who took care of you, why would you do something so careless, so reckless? She held his face in her hands, combing back his hair with her fingers. She kissed his cheeks, his forehead, the top of his head. She prodded at his arm, fretting over the bandage job the nurses did at the hospital, wondering what on earth he did to do that to his arm in the first place.

They fell back into their routine like normal. Myra cooked him something, something Eddie didn’t have the energy to really taster. They would watch TV as they ate, some drama Myra liked. They would brush their teeth together, and Myra put curlers in her hair.

As Eddie brushed his teeth, he stared at his reflection in the mirror, something he rarely did (watching himself practically foam from the mouth with toothpaste, counting every wrinkle on his face as the seconds passed didn’t really seem all that appealing to him).

He looked deeply into his reflection, black eyes bearing into him. His reflection seemed… disappointed in him?

His eyebrows drew together. The eyes on the other side just had this look, this look of what have you done?

“Eddie, are you alright?”

“Mm?” Eddie hardly realized his toothbrushing pace slowed suddenly.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Myra reached up to feel his forehead, but Eddie ducked her hand. He spit into the sink.

“I’m fine, Myra.” He wiped his mouth and took a sip of water.

“Don’t forget to take your medicine before you come to bed,” Myra walked out of the bathroom, and Eddie could hear the covers shift as she settled down on their shared mattress.

Eddie eyed the crack in the mirror that opened up to his medicine cabinet.

It’s fake, you don’t need it, boy-o.

But Eddie was a coward. He’d always been.

The cabinet door opened with a creak, and Eddie plucked several bottles from the shelves. He dumped various pills of different colors and sizes into his palm, and dumped them into his mouth. With a long gulp of water, he shuddered as the pills slid down his throat.

Coward.

He stood there a moment, gripping the sides of the sink. He slowly lifted his head to his reflection again. There were those black eyes again, the what have you done eyes.

“Eddie-bear? Come to bed,”

Their master bedroom was dark, but Eddie could see Myra curled under the covers. Eddie opened the covers to lay next to her, but he turned away from her. Myra liked it when they fell asleep facing each other, though Eddie didn’t really understand this ritual. It’s not like it mattered all that much, anyway. But tonight, Eddie just told her he couldn’t sleep on his right arm, and he had to turn away from her.

He tucked his arms close to him as he felt Myra get up close to him, tucking her legs behind his and pressing her forehead into the small between his shoulder blades. A tingling, crawling sensation climbed up his spine, and it took everything he had to not shake her off. He was never the touching type, physical affection was just too… physical.

They never held hands in public. Myra didn’t hug Eddie while they were alone in the kitchen. They didn’t do a lot of things Eddie saw couples do, but that was because Eddie had so many issues. And Myra put up with him.

Maybe that was why she agreed to marry him, he once thought to himself. She took care of him, wanted to take care of him.

After all, no one could take care of him like Myra could.

For five years since they married, she’s been in charge of the prescriptions, the vitamins, the over-the-counters. Everytime he told her he could take care of himself, she always said “you just think that, Eddie-bear, let me take care of you.”

But that was what Eddie knew. It was familiar.

And he was afraid of what would happen to him if he didn’t. One of his worst fears was not taking his medicine, and finding out he was actually sick this whole time, and that his mother was right, and she’d pop out of her grave smiling “I told you so,” and drag him down to her grave with her.

Okay, maybe he should evaluate his fears. Especially after everything that happened.

The Leper, with his nose falling off, lesions marring his face, teeth yellow and falling out—

He didn’t have leprosy, he had syphilis.

It’s a disease you get from fucking, you know about fucking, don’t you Eds?

Eddie swallowed.

He also needed to evaluate how many times Richie’s voice appeared in his head. The number kept increasing at a concerning rate.

Maybe he should call Richie.

No, not now. It was too late for that. Additionally, Myra was here.

Why should that matter? Eddie thought to himself. I can call my friends if I want.

(Except Richie was one of those dirty boys, and he knew he’d be in trouble if his mom overheard him talking to Richie)

Richie was rarely allowed in Eddie’s house. Not that the rest of his friends were, but whenever Richie came over and knocked on the door, Sonia Kaspbrak would sniff her nose from her chair. Richie would greet her as politely as he could, only to be met with a dark glare. Eddie had to lead Richie to the room above the garage as quickly as possible before his mom said something.

Or before Richie would say something.

But that’s why he was friends with Richie. Richie was unpredictable, electric, exciting. He would open his mouth and just pour out whatever he was thinking. It got him into trouble, but Eddie always thought it was funny, or at the very least interesting. Admittedly, he did pick up that habit from Richie, sometimes he’d just say things without thinking, which did earn him a bloody nose from Henry Bowers on a few occasions.

Eddie always felt some kind of energy when he was around Richie. Like he could laugh for a million years and still have some left over. Like he could run and run and run and not be afraid of anything. Like he could stand over a cliff and scream and hear his echo bounce back to him.

But Eddie was rarely allowed to be around Richie. They were only really safe in the Barrens or hanging around with Bill and the rest of them. Eddie was sure his mother would have a heart attack and wig out if she found out he’d been playing near the pumping station, or around the train tracks near the Neibolt house (well… back then he didn’t exactly know what was lurking in there). It was dirty.

Sonia would frequently comment about her distaste for Eddie’s friends. Those boys. That girl. That Stuttering Denbrough Boy. That Filthy Tozier Boy.

Richie’s parents never said that to Eddie, or at least not when he was around. They would make snacks for him and Richie whenever Eddie went over to their house. They would laugh. Richie’s dad would tell jokes and make faces. They told Eddie he was welcome anytime.

And it filled Eddie with such jealousy. Sometimes, Eddie would dream about running away to the Tozier’s house, and they’d take him away on a plane, take him to another state, hundreds of miles away from his mother.

Guilt would stop him. He wasn’t supposed to feel that way. He was supposed to love his mother, and the problem was with him. Besides, there are too many dangerous things and people out there, Eddie. You could get infected.

Myra rubbed a hand over Eddie’s arm. His breath caught in his throat, and he raised his shoulders. She planted a kiss to the back of his neck, telling him his breathing was getting too short.

Chapter Text

Somewhere between 1953 and 1985 Eddie fell in love with Richie. 

This thought started a panic which made Myra rush to him while he was doing the dishes, trying to get his inhaler in his mouth. All the while Eddie could only think, Holy shit, I just admitted I love Richie Tozier. 

That night, after Eddie successfully convinced Myra he didn’t need to go to a hospital, he retraced his steps to figure out when this whole thing happened. 

When, when, when? 

Maybe it was love at first sight. 

When on the first day of kindergarten in 1953, Richie sat next to him, smiled, and waved. When he pulled out a Superman comic and showed Eddie his favorite part, or when he tried to talk like Bugs Bunny later at recess. The impressions Richie did made Eddie cry in laughter, rolling over and holding his sides. He remembers Richie’s blue eyes sparkling whenever he managed to make Eddie laugh. 

But, Eddie remembers being weirded out by Richie when he went digging around for Rolly Pollies. He had dirt under his fingernails and scraped one of his knees sitting on the concrete. He also rolled his eyes when Richie stuck pencils in a rolled up piece of paper and made it “walk” across the desk, creating a high-pitched voice for this paper roll. 

So maybe not. 

What about a childhood crush? 

In 1956, when Eddie went to Richie’s house for the first time, maybe. That was when Richie showed Eddie his records, all rock and roll music, music Eddie was never allowed to listen to. Freddy Cannon, Jerry Lee Lewis, Frankie Lymon. Eddie stood there with his mouth open, “Do your parents actually let you listen to this?” 

“Sure, my folks don’t like it, but they don’t mind,” Richie said, flipping through the records. “Oh, this one is my favorite!” He set a small record on his table top, and shook his head in time to the music.

 Eddie smiled from the corner of Richie’s room, watching him swing his shoulders around. Orange sunlight from the setting sun fell in through the window, leaving a striped pattern on Richie’s skin, and a glow on his head. Richie was shuffling his feet and singing along. 

“Come on baby, let the good times roll, roll all night long”  

Richie stood in front of Eddie, smiling his buck-toothed grin, snapping his fingers. He scrunched his nose when Shirley would sing, pitching his voice up and crossing his eyes. 

Even just listening to rock music made Eddie get a thrill. He knew the kind of trouble he’d be in for listening to “the Devil’s music”, but it just made his heart beat faster. Simultaneously, he felt like the police were going to show up and arrest him for listening to music, but he also felt immortal, like nothing could ever touch him.

Being here with Richie was safe. 

Years later, Eddie realized that it wasn’t because Richie’s parents let him listen to rock and roll-- that was part of it, but it seemed to Eddie that it was also because his mother would never know. She would never know what happened at Richie’s house, so it became a bubble. A bubble that Eddie knew she couldn’t pop. It was a bubble just for him and Richie. 

As the sun went down and Richie’s room got dark, “In the Still of the Night” played softly from the far end of Richie’s room. They both lay on the bed with their heads turned towards each other. Richie practiced his impressions on Eddie, working on a British voice that he called “Toodles the British Butler”. Eddie would laugh and poke fun at Richie’s piss-poor impressions, but Richie would laugh right back. 

Eddie thinks they invented the “push-pull” dynamic of richieandeddie that night. 

Eddie stuck his tongue out. Richie laughed. Eddie laughed. 

Two years later, during the notorious Summer, That Summer, where Ben, Bev, and Mike joined their group, where they became the Losers Club, where they were complete, Eddie and Richie became nearly inseparable. In the barrens, in the clubhouse… the house, the sewers. Through the hardest and scariest parts of that year, Richie was there. And he was there when the grass in the Barrens were mint-green, the sky was bright blue, and the air was fresh. Richie’s buckteeth smiling through the cracks of the clubhouse door, blue eyes peering down onto Eddie. 

“Who’s that trip-trapping on my bridge?” said Eddie, a thin strip of sunlight cast on his face, making his light grey eyes seem almost white as he looked up at Richie. 

Bill was their leader, and someone Eddie wanted to follow to the ends of the earth. He always revered Bill with such adoration. Him and Bill were a set, but him and Richie? They were something else, something much deeper. 

They were soulmates, something Eddie wouldn’t know the name for until he was in high school, when his mother told him eventually he’d find his soulmate. 

In September 1961, only Mike and Eddie remained in Derry. And they would be for a while. 

Eddie knew Mike had to stay with his parents on the farm, so he wasn’t going anywhere. And Eddie knew his mother would plant her feet firmly in the ground, not allowing Eddie to go anywhere besides Portland, Bangor, and Derry. 

Eddie remembered Richie then. 

He left over a year ago, but Eddie still remembers them dancing to Sam Cooke. Richie’s hair was growing longer and his bangs hung over his eyes, strands of hair curling around his ears. When Eddie helped the Tozier pack away their moving van, he remembers Richie hugging him tightly in the street. Eddie’s nose was tucked into Richie’s neck, arms folded under Richie’s arms and around his shoulder blades. They stood there, and Eddie thought, if I never let him go, he’ll never leave me. 

Eventually, Richie started swaying back and forth on his toes, rocking Eddie with him. The boys broke out into quiet laughs, and when Eddie pulled away, he saw little streams of tears flow gently down Richie’s freckled cheeks. 

Eddie watched their car drive away, and he never spoke to Richie again. 

Maybe this is when Eddie fell in love with Richie. In the time where all Eddie could think about was how much he missed those stupid voices Richie cracked. How all he could think about was if Richie made any friends in his new town, whether or not they were as good as Eddie. 

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. 

Christ, Eddie wanted to hurl thinking of something that chessy. But…. but it was true. He missed Richie more than anything. And it hurt every day when Eddie watched Bugs Bunny, thinking of the way Richie stuck his teeth out when doing his impression. In the way his voice sounded from the other side of the phone when he picked up, “What’s up, doc?” 

There wasn’t any more of that, ever since Richie stopped picking up the phone. The first time, Eddie’s heart would climb higher into his throat with every ring, and seize when he was met with a buzzing silence. 

Finally grew out of me, huh? 

No more richieandeddie. 

Just Eddie. And Mike. And Eddie’s mom. And the eighth grade formal. The dance that gave Eddie more and more anxiety every time it was even mentioned. It seemed almost every night, Eddie would lie awake in bed, thinking of him and Richie at the dance, holding hands, deciding to take their shoes off and sit on the ledge outside the back doors, listening to the music that was muffled beyond the metal doors. He pictured Richie at 13, still gangly and still smiley no doubt, but maybe he got braces and his teeth were perfectly aligned in his mouth. Or maybe he still had braces. How would his hair look? Did he still have that ridiculous shaggy haircut that made him look like Buddy Holly? How would he do his hair at a dance? Would it be slicked? Would he wear his glasses as he twisted around, shaking his hips and head? 

Eddie imagined the soft lights against Richie’s hair, making it glow to almost blonde. His blue eyes emphasized by the moon, his laugh that would ripple throughout the night air. 

Eddie rolled over in his bed sighing. Of course that would be stupid. No one thinks about their friend like that, especially if that friend was also a boy. Two boys don’t go to dances together. It just didn’t work like that. In all the stupid shows Eddie and his mom watched, they guy would go with the girl. And the boy would pick her up in his car, pin a flower on her wrist and his lapel, and they’d drive together to the dance. And they’d dance the whole night, and the boy would give the girl a kiss on the cheek when he dropped her off. 

And Eddie would have to do that with a girl. It made his heart sink. The only girl Eddie ever felt comfortable around was Bev, and she wasn’t her anymore. Eddie couldn’t think of a single girl to ask. He couldn’t go by himself, everyone would know he didn’t have a date and poke fun. He couldn’t just stay home, his mother would be there, and somehow that was worse. His mother knew there was a dance, and if he didn’t go, she’d smile and say “Your mother is the only one you need,” 

Mike wasn’t going, he had to stay and help on the farm and finish homework. Maybe he could just stay the night with Mike. 

Yes. Tell his mother he was going to the dance with… with some girl he’d make up on the spot, tell her he’d be back later, and then just bike to Mike’s house with a change of clothes in his backpack. No one had to know. 

The day came in early May of 1962, and at school no one seemed to stop talking about the dance. The girls would walk down the hallways, telling their friends the kind of dress they were wearing, who they were going with, where they would eat dinner. They guys were still asking the girls with roses and elaborate posters. Decorations were already starting to be hung in the hallway and across the cafeteria. Eddie sat across from Mike, who was flipping through a history book, clicking a pen rapidly next to his head. 

Eddie rolled up his brown lunch bag. “Do you still have to stay home tonight?” 

Mike didn’t look up from his book, but responded, “Yep, still do. Why? Are you going to the dance?” He flipped through some pages. 

“Um, no, actually, I didn’t, I mean I didn’t want to ask anyone, so I thought,” Eddie shifted in his seat, “Can I come over to your house? I can help you with your chores?” 

Mike looked up. “Sure, but...Your mom would let you come over to the barn? Really?” A small grin spread across his face. 

“She… she thinks I’m going to the dance, so. No, she wouldn’t let me, but I’m not going to tell her.” 

Mike pressed his lips in an “oh” shape and looked back at his page. “I don’t think my parents would mind, they like you. I won’t say anything to them.”

Thank God for little miracles. Thank God for Mike.   

That night, Eddie and Mike watched the sun go down over the wheatfield, and listened to the Ink Spots as the sky turned light purple, and laughed with the crickets. 

In 1963, Eddie started to forget Richie. 

In 1963, Sonia Kaspbrak decided to move them to New York, for the air Eddie-bear, the air is better in the country, your lungs are just getting weaker. 

In 1963, Eddie barely fit in at his new school, but managed to make a new group of friends. He thought they were less… together. Like him and the three other friends he had didn’t fit together as well as… as well as… Well, Eddie just felt that they were loose. 

In October, his friends pushed him to ask Annie Repeski to the homecoming dance. She was pretty, Eddie decided one night, trying to persuade himself to ask her. She had wavy blonde hair that she often put up in a ponytail, with small eyeliner and red lipstick. According to one of Eddie’s friends, she liked him, and was just waiting for Eddie to ask him to the dance. Of course, the idea of anyone ever liking Eddie just made his mind fry, but maybe he should try to reciprocate. What would be the harm? It was just one dance. It wasn’t like they were going to be dating after it. Right? Oh god, did Eddie even know how to be a boyfriend? 

Calm down, Eds. It’s just a dance. 

Eds? 

No one had called him that since… 

A sudden flash of glinting glasses and a high-pitched laugh broke Eddie’s thoughts. Wait, who was that? ‘Someone I used to know…’ his brain responded. 

The next day, Eddie bought roses, and met Annie at her locker. She took the roses and said yes, looking back as she walked away with her friends, smiling and turning red. 

He walked up to the school with Annie clinging onto his arm, wearing a blue silk dress and flowers in her hair. She smiled to her friends from across the cafeteria and pulled on Eddie’s hands to lead him to the dance floor. He tried to smile with her as she snapped her fingers and shuffled her feet across the linoleum, but his suit jacket was getting tight around his neck, and the lights were getting brighter. 

You can swing it, you can groove it

His back stiffened as she grabbed his hands and started swinging his arms. He tried to move his feet along with music, at least tried to look like he was enjoying himself

You can really start to move it 

Annie laughed as she danced under his arms, silk dress flowing around her body. 

Too many bodies. Too many fabrics. Too much light. Too much music. Eddie’s heart rate sped up. He needed his inhaler. 

All the cats and the chicks can get their kicks at the hop

The song ended with a sea of applause, bow from the band, and another song picked up. 

All of my love, all of my kissin, you don’t know what you’ve been missin, oh boy

The glasses glinted again. Blue eyes crinkled in laughter, laughter that pierced through the entire dance floor, but laughter that only Eddie could hear. 

He had hair like Buddy Holly because he was his idol. He wanted to be a rock singer with glasses just like Buddy Holly. He did voices. He had buckteeth that pulled on his lower lip when he tried to hold in a laugh. He loved scary movies. He had a radio. He called him Eds, no matter how many times Eddie told him not to. 

Eds. 

Eds. 

“Eddie!” 

Annie was looking at him with her brown eyes. “Are you okay?” They were stopped in the middle of the floor, surrounded by dancing couples. 

“I think… I just need to go outside for a moment.” 

They walked out the doors to the back courtyard and Eddie pulled out his inhaler from his back pocket. With a hiss, he breathed in his (battery acid) medicine. 

“Sorry,” Eddie breathed. 

Annie smiled, “That’s okay, I was getting a little tired in there,” she huffed a laugh and leaned down to unbuckle the straps to her shoes. 

The metal doors muted the harmonies of the band. It sounded like they switched to a slow song. Fall air blew around the courtyard, and stray leaves landed onto the concrete. 

“Not a big dance person, are you?” Annie chuckled, holding onto her shoes. 

“It’s my first dance,”

“Oh,” 

Eddie sat down on the steps. The concrete was cold. He hugged his knees closer to his chest. Annie placed herself next to him. Almost too close. 

“Well, I hope it was a good one,” she said leaning on his arm. 

Oh Jesus. Is she trying to tell me something? Should I do something? Why do I know absolutely nothing? Why is this so stressful!?

Calm down, Eds. 

Annie didn’t have brown curly hair or freckles. She didn’t have blue eyes, and she didn’t laugh loudly. But he was here at a dance with a girl. Not his friend who was also a boy. Just like in the tv shows. 

Next he’d have to drive her home and give her a kiss on the cheek. It’s just a dance. Just a dance. Just a kiss. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Calm down, Eds.

A chill ran down Eddie’s spine. 

“Hey, Eddie,” 

Eddie turned his head down to face Annie, but she rushed up to him and put her lips on his. 

Her lips were soft, but cold. Her lipstick was sticky. She didn’t really move her lips. Maybe she was waiting for him to do something, but between his body completely freezing up and his mind hitting a panic button, screaming and screaming, he could only form one coherent thought. 

I don’t feel anything. 

He was pretty sure the racing of his heart was from the complete panic that was setting in, and decidedly not from his first kiss. 

What was worse, he realized his eyes were still open. 

Annie pulled away slowly, looking up at him. Eddie’s eyes were still wide open; he felt like his body was stuck to the ground. 

“You don’t love me, do you?” She said, simply and quietly. 

“I… I’m not sure--” Eddie choked on his breath. 

“Eddie, are you gay?” 

The question hung in the air. Annie’s brown eyes were staring at him, with just a sliver of hope left. The only thing Eddie could do was open and close his mouth like a fish out of water. 

“I knew it.” Annie stood up from the steps and pulled the doors open. Music from the inside and loud chatter suddenly burst through the cold air, disappearing again with a chunk of the doors. 

Four things happened that night. 

One, he had his first kiss. Two, he completely embarrassed himself. Three, he found out he might be a little bit gay. Four, he remembered a boy from a long time ago that he loved, and realized he never fell out of love. But he couldn’t even remember that boy’s name.

Chapter Text

Richie braced for the cold water to rush to his feet. The sand softened, and he sank into the earth. The foam wrapped around his legs.

Despite it all, despite the fact that he just faced horrors beyond his imagination, despite leaving his friends-leaving EddieEdsSpaghetti-to their devices, despite trudging back to California (alone, he might add), Richie felt surprisingly peaceful. The sun was setting low, and he had to squint against the glint in the waves. The bright lights that scattered across the rippling water seemed to find its way directly into Richie’s eyes. 

Pennywise was defeated, or rather the true form of that clown character. Maybe he’ll add the voice to his collection. After all, what better way to deal with what happened than to laugh at it? 

Bite your tongue, Tozier. 

I’ll bite your tongue. 

It was Eddie who saved him, him and Bill. They were stuck in that void, whipping around timeless dark in every direction, Richie biting desperately and winning, for God’s sake, winning. Eddie pulled them out, but Richie can’t remember how. His mind was suddenly hurtled back into his skull, and he stumbled around drunkenly. Then he saw the blood. Christ, he thought Eddie was dying, there was so much blood. Beverly was sobbing, Eddie was going unconscious. The spider was shrieking. Bill charged at the creature, meaning to finish the job and finish it good. There was so much chaos, confusion, Richie remembers holding Eddie’s hand, and telling Bev and Bill to keep him awake. He would not have another friend die on him, and God only knows if Mike was slowly dying at the hospital. He had to go save Bill’s ass, just to make sure It would be good and dead, and to make sure Bill wouldn’t die either. Richie’s head hurt. 

When It bled out its last, and Richie puked up the last of his dinner from the night before, Bev called to him. Eddie was breathing, and Richie was going to make sure it’d stay that way. Even when the cave started to crumble, all Richie could think of was get Eddie out, and get him out now. Keep him awake, keep him breathing, he couldn’t die down here, not in Richie’s arms, no way Jose, I love him. Richie’s heart raced. I love him, he thought again. Love, really love, this man bleeding out in front of him. Gotta get him out, gotta go, gotta move. Richie hoisted Eddie on his back, and made for the little door.

Richie rubbed his temples. Pushed up his glasses, a habit he thought he’d lost when he switched to contacts in high school. He sat on the stiff mattress of his room. He could hear Eddie walking down the stairs to the lobby. Maybe he should say something. Anything, really, just to keep Eddie from leaving. Leaving him. Richie thought about his house he had in California. Not a mansion, but nice for California. It had a spare room. 

The waves broke, and the water rushed to Richie’s legs again. The tips of his trousers brushed the top of the foamy water. Richie put his hands in his pockets, and kicked the sand under the water. 

He hadn’t taken his glasses off since Derry, which got him a few weird looks from his coworkers at the radio station. (Didn’t know you needed glasses, Tozier, when did that happen!?”). It was a little jarring for Richie himself to look in the mirror sometimes. He felt like his 11 year old self was staring right back at him. If his 11 year old self was sporting a 10 o’clock shadow. How did the last few weeks cause him to somehow age years? Eddie left looking the same, although he did look a little pathetic in his bandages. Richie smiled to himself. Leave it Eds the Spagheds to make Richie’s heart clench. Eddie didn’t die down there. He didn’t die. Richie saved him, sure as shit. And Richie finally admitted it– to himself, the little coward. All those years of ponytail pulling meant something after all, and all those years of bullies punching his face and throwing him in the gravel of the schoolyard shouting “Faggot! You four-eyed faggot freak!” meant something after all

Richie squinted his eyes against the setting sun and put his hand over his forehead. He wished Eddie was here with him. He wanted to make sure he was doing okay, and maybe… maybe he was thinking of Richie too. Richie kicked the sand, feeling his heart sink. No way, no way he was thinking of him in the same way Richie was. Richie knew. He’s married, remember? And here Richie was, walking on the beach, alone and pining. And also being gay. Richie kicked the sand again. Fucking hell, the way that stupid clown tried to mock him for it. Pointing out his childhood crush on Eddie, one that he remembered as soon as he saw Eddie at the restaurant. Fucking clown. 

Cheap thrills in the back of my car, bozo…

Growing up, he was in a constant state of confusion, sadness, and anger about himself. He kept these bad feelings to himself, never telling anyone anything at all. He had all these bad feelings about… well, everything, but mainly about boys. About Eddie. 

The werewolf. Wearing his jacket. His jacket. He’s monstrous, is what the clown told him. Of fucking course he was. Thinking about Eddie like this. 

Love. Love him. Him. 

He remembers being 12. He was in a grocery store with his mom, and an advertisement caught his eye. It was a cigarette advertisement with a man in shorts and long socks, draped across a bed with long legs bare and muscular arms. He held a cigarette delicately between his fingers, and his black hair was slicked back except for a stray piece dangling in front of his eyes. Richie swallowed. His palms got sweaty. He stared at the man’s legs, eyes following up to his chest, and then to his fingers, and then to his eyes. Richie’s mom called for him, and he snapped out of his daze. 

That night he thought of the man again, imagining being older and holding that man. Being held by him. Fingers going through strands of hair, soft touches up the legs, stopping. Richie remembers laying in bed then, sweat making the sheets stick to him. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. What’s the matter with him? Richie rolled over in bed, and a tear fell down his cheek. 

Bawl baby, bawl baby, look at the baby bawl!

The sun was going down beyond the water, and it was getting darker. Richie walked back to his shoes that lay in the sand, and hung them by his fingers. His house was just up the hills of the sand. He was thinking of Eddie again as he walked back. 

He sat on the corner of his bed, holding a scrap piece of paper in his hand. Scrawled across it, there was a faded phone number. Richie held the paper delicately, waving in up and down as he decided what to do. His leg started shaking. He licked his lips and pushed his glasses up his nose. He’d pick up, right? It’s just Eddie, his friend. A childhood friend, that honestly Richie forgot about, and maybe doesn’t really know that well, and Eddie wouldn't want to talk to him, maybe he’s busy living the married life, and maybe–

Richie took a breath. No. No, he’d do it. He’s just checking in. Richie rolled the dial on the phone and waited for the phone to ring. Eddie wouldn’t pick up, why would he? He’s probably at work, or on a romantic vacation with his wife (wife!) and he’s probably–

“Hello?” 

Richie fumbled the phone in his hand, heart beating out of his chest.

“Hey, uh, h-h, hello!” 

“Who is this?”

“Why, this is Toodles, young master, here to serve and here to get on your NERVES!” 

“Is that you, Rich?” 

“How’d you guess?”

“It’s good to hear from you, I haven’t heard from you in a while.” 

“Yeah, I’ve. The radio show, you know, it’s… yeah. How are you?”

“Fine. Fine, I guess. Well I’m… I’m getting divorced.” 

Richie froze. Divorced? Divorced? What the actual fuck. What the fuck. 

“What the fuck? Shit, man, I’m sorry.”

“No! No, it’s okay, I actually… I actually initiated it. It just wasn’t, she wasn’t… I just realised it wasn’t working out.” 

“Well… Well sorry, again. But happy for you? I’ve never met your wife, so… I guess I don’t know what your relationship was like.” 

“Do you remember my mom?”

Oh that was a can of worms. A fucking Pandora’s box. Of course he remembered Eddie’s mom. She’d lurk behind Eddie, constantly fussing over him, restricting him from everything at every possible turn. Richie did not like her, which was fine, because she hated him. Only occasionally would she be in a good enough mood to let Eddie invite Richie over, and even then Richie felt she would kick Richie out at any moment. But when Eddie was in the hospital, and everyone came to check in on him, his mom lashed out at all of them. 

Don’t you dare speak back to me! 

Eddie is done with you, done!

Sonia Kaspbrak’s eyes flew to Richie, and they locked eyes. Richie felt a crawling fear go up his throat, and for a second Richie thought that she knew. Knew he was a little disgusting faggoty boy in love with her son. Richie, for once, didn’t say anything. His mouth was frozen shut, like the lockjaw Eddie once told him about.

"Yeah, I remember.”

“Too close of a resemblance.” 

“Jee-suss.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, Eds Spagheds-”

“Don’t call me that Rich.” There was a huff of a little chuckle on the other line.

Richie fell into a Georgia bell voice,“Getting your chucks today? Having a few laughs are we? Well good, you know it’s been a while since I heard laughter, the sweet, sweet ringing of your sweet, sweet, laugh, the crinkle in your eyes, the–

Richie gulped. Oh shit and shynola. Maybe a little too far. But maybe the Voice was enough cover for that. 

“Yeah, yeah, you shithead.” 

Richie smiled. He scratched at the scruff on his chin. An awkward silence fell between them.

“Well…” Eddie started.

“Hey Eds?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you, you know, are doing okay.” 

“Thanks, Rich.”

“Um…”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing. Sorry. Nevermind.”

“Okay…”

“Have a good night, Eds.”

“You too.”

Richie hung up first. His mind was racing. Fuck him, he almost said it. Almost said “Hey, I know you’re not gay, but I am, and boy do I have the hots for you, yeah ol’ Trashmouth is in love with y-o-u!” 

Well, in not so many words. 

That night, Richie lay in bed in his usual only-underwear look, and thought some more. He rolled to look up at the ceiling. 

He thought of Sandy. He was in love with her, sure. He thought he was going to marry her. He definitely was attracted to her, loved having sex with her. But then they broke up, life was pulling them in different directions, Rich. 

Richie furrowed his brows. What did they call it? When you love women and men. Richie’s mind blanked. Whatever it was, Richie thought he was it. He thought of the magazine from when he was young. The thing that started this whole… thing. He thinks that’s the first time he ever felt sexual attraction to another man. When he moved away from Derry, he thought about men, appreciated the way their hair fell in front of their eyes, and the way they’d roll up their sleeves. He was 15, 17, 20, 30, 35, and still loved men no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. But he could never tell anyone, not ever. Especially not now. AIDS, a gift from God to kill all queers, don’t you know. 

He never told his parents while they were still alive. He wonders what they would have said.

No son of mine will be a god damn queer, now get out of my house!

Richie, of course we still love you!

Richie, I can’t believe you could be gay, how could you even think like that?

So, who’s the lucky man?

You’re disgusting, get away from us, you monster!

Richie brushed his hands through his hair. He thought back to Eddie, Eddie with his fucking bottle of gin and prunejuice, still the hot-head, still having those gray-blue eyes surrounded by wire glasses (God, that made him look so-), and dark hair, thinning but laid neatly on his head. Richie wondered what his hair felt like. The magazine suddenly popped into his head. He thought of Eddie laying there with bare legs, maybe his shirt was off, like he was going for a swim. Richie wondered if Eddie had hair on his chest. He imagined running his hands up Eddie’s chest, him laying on top of Eddie with one leg in between Eddie’s. His breath would be hot on Richie’s neck, and–

Nope. That’s enough. Go back to bed, boner, down boy. 

Richie reached down and pressed on his groin. When was the last time? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt… 

Richie slid his hand under his Calvin Klein boxers, and wrapped his hand around the shaft. With a tug, he thought of Eddie’s freckled cheeks pressed against his own. Richie’s knee would press in between Eddie’s legs, and then he’d grind his hips down. Both of them would groan, Eddie would wrap his hands around Richie’s neck, and he’d throw his head back. Richie would kiss his Adam’s apple, and then bite gently on the side of Eddie’s neck. He’d grab the bulge hidden under Eddie’s shorts before slipping his hand down and rub his thumb over the tip. Richie would start kissing down Eddie’s slim chest, down the trail of hair leading to the top of his shorts. He’d pull down the shorts just enough so that Richie could lick the side of Eddie’s dick before wrapping his lips around it. He’d bob his head up and down, tongue sliding around the shaft. Eddie would grip Richie’s hair, pulling ever so slightly. With a sharp pull and a moan, Eddie would release into Richie’s mouth, and Richie would taste the saltiness now running down his throat. 

Jesus!

Richie quivered in his bed, hands and stomach sticky. He tried catching his breath. Guilt and shame slowly crept its way up Richie’s heart and into his lungs. Can’t believe I did that, thought about that with my best friend! Richie got up to wash his hands, and looked at himself in the mirror. 

Fucking monster.